Summer Saturdays

Saturdays in the summer are no different than any other Saturday for me, the adult. But in the summer, my kids newly found love of morning TV (really it's just Netflix) gives the wife and I something wonderful.

They let us sleep.

Summer boycation

For some odd reason, the school year here runs through late June. The high school kids attendance is spotty based on final exam schedules, and the younger kids don't do anything of any academic value.

Seriously, they had parties and watched movies almost exclusively the last few weeks. There's almost no point in sending them.

So today, after weeks of nonsense, my kids can waste time at home in their pajamas instead. I woke up this morning to find my boys eating cereal and watching cartoons. They didn't wake me up, they didn't wake their mom up. They just got cereal and Netflix.

I took note of this as I got ready for work, and found myself not a small bit envious as I started my work week.

Heat and furniture

It was in the mid 90's today. The first time I was in the mid 90's, I was a teenager. Flannel shirts and grunge clashed with Zubas and NKOTB.

It was really friggin warm out today. And it was humid. Today I wish to honor Willis Carrier - the father of modern air conditioner. Freon is my best friend today.

So after a decade of moving around with my wife, and relying on whatever furniture we could get that fit our space, owning a house is changing things up a bit. I'm at a point where I'm changing my space to what I want (I could never do that as a renter) and now I'm getting (albeit slowly) the furniture that best fits the new space.

I bought a desk that isn't a complete piece of crap and I love it.

Down with the sweetness

Part of getting old means finally admitting that I don't have the metabolism of a teenager any more.

I'm in my mid 30's, I should have admitted this a decade ago. Whatever.

So anyway I'm trying to cut all the extra sugar out of my diet. Junk food, soda, etc. Problem is, I'm finding sugar everywhere. How can a tiny cup of yogurt have 37 grams of sugar in there? There aren't even 37 grams of yogurt in the thing.

It's in the bread.

And when they slap labels on it saying "low sugar" or some nonsense, they've replaced the sugar with some carcinogenic garbage like sucralose or aspartame. I need to have a conversation with food producers when they get to that stage. Once they take the sugar out - STOP. Don't put the cancer in. Just leave it.

Meanwhile, my efforts to remove just the extra junk has left me... feisty. I'm eating a lot of fruit just to shut my body up. I dream of donuts. I tell myself not to the store go alone.

My clothes fit a little more comfortably. I'm not sure I enjoy the trade.

Moanday

I don't dread Mondays. The start of a work week, coupled with the demise of a weekend, do not vex my mere existence. There are some times when the weekend itself is rougher than my employment, and Monday mornings are a welcome change. (Having kids will do that to you)

No, what I hate are coworkers that whine about Mondays, every single Monday.

You know the type. Every single Monday, they start off droopy, and the first thing out of their mouths is some lamentation regarding the day of the week. As if it was some painful mark upon their calendars that burnt away any remaining joy.

...wtf? Monday happens every single week, how have you not figured this out by now? Look I'm no life guru, but adjusting your expectations to reality, especially a reality that literally never changes and has always been that way, shouldn't be that hard. In fact, I'm more surprised there are people like this left.

These are the same people that celebrate Fridays as if it were some kind of achievement. Surviving the march of time can be taxing, I suppose, but throwing a mini party every single week just because you got to it seems to devalue the whole thing.

Oh crap, I've turned into one of those people that complain about everything. I need to blog about food or something.

Memorial Play

Yea, the title is a play on 'Memorial Day'. One of the overbearing parts of social media is the endless sanctimony, especially around holidays that honor military personnel. Every friggin year I see a glut of 'holier than thou' rants about how we should be spending holidays.

"iT's nOt NaTiOnAl BBq dAy"

Or something like that.

Let me make myself perfectly clear: if someone fights for me, if someone dies for me, then the best way to honor their service and sacrifice is to cherish and exercise what I would have lost otherwise.

Now excuse me, I have a BBQ to fire up, because I can.

The (big) Doors

My workplace utilizes a forklift to accept large deliveries of heavy stuff. We, in turn, make it into many, smaller things, but that's not where I'm going with this. What it means is that my workplace has giant doors. Frickin huge doors that you can literally drive through.

Seriously. The owner once stored a car in there for awhile.

When the weather is miserable and, well, not nice, the doors make no difference. Until we get a large delivery of heavy stuff, in which case everyone gets an icy blast. However, on those delightful sunny days, my coworkers like to torture everyone by keeping them wide open, so everyone can see the wonderful day that they can't enjoy because they're stuck at work.

Also, there are such doors on opposite ends of the building, and the narrow space I occupy happens to be a choke point for the gentle breeze everyone else gets to enjoy. When it gets to me, it's half cyclone. Some days I have more paperweights than paper. I keep random tools on top of folders just in case the doors open when I'm busy elsewhere.

I'd set up a pinwheel in the doorway if it wouldn't encourage them.